


Warm Bodies

by Zianourrylovesme (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Bottom Harry, Coffee, Hair Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zianourrylovesme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brown.</p><p>A dull brown, as Louis had remembered Harry’s sparkling greens.</p><p>Louis had shook the thoughts out of his head,</p><p>he means,</p><p>who even knew where Harry was now?</p><p> </p><p>or:<br/>The one where Louis has a three year long struggle about whether or not he should pull Harry's hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> this made me lose sleep, but wtf.

Louis felt the familiar jolt of his gun as he pulled the trigger twice, both bullets burying themselves in a bloody mess Lou could only describe as a zombie. He turned and came face to face with another, it’s eyes rolled back in it’s half decayed head as it stumbled into Louis.

 

“Jesus Christ, at least get a breath-mint for fuck’s sake,” Louis muttered as he jerked himself away, already hearing another of the creatures approaching as he raised and leveled his gun at the confused zombie, which was reaching and grasping for thin air, looking for the warm body it had just been holding.

Just then, another gunshot rang in the eerie silence, and Louis ducked out of the way as the mangled body reeled forward, falling to the ground and writhing as it wailed and groaned.

Louis finished it off with another shot, and promptly turned and gunned down the other zombie, who had been edging closer while  _staring_

_at_

_Lou’s_

_ass_.

Humming, Lou rolled his eyes and blew his fringe to the right for a better view, scowling as he said to himself,”It’s dead, yet it still stares at my ass. I guess all men really  _are_ the same.”

Although it wasn’t really to himself, seeing as footsteps were nearing.

The other gunman.

“Nah, not all men, they’re just the only douche-bags left.”

The unknown man spoke slowly, his deep voice making Lou shiver as he thought about how it would sound after Louis fucked his throat…

Lou shook off his thoughts, dismissing it as due to not having a warm body to fuck, his hand picking up the slack in the absence of _North America_. Chuckling, Louis did a once over on the now fully dead form of he zombies and turned to look at the man next to him.

_Jesus Christ_.

It was the _hair_.

Louis _knew_ it was the hair.

He _needed_ to pull on it.

He _needed_  to pull on it and flick his hips, roughly jamming his cock in the guys mouth.

He _needed_ to pull on it and _feel_ his cock being encased in that  _hot_ ,  _clenching throat_.

He _needed_ to pull on it and watch the emerald eyes spin up towards him, pleading for more, even as they watered at the slightly uncomfortable stretch.

He just needed to pull on it.

Breathing out heavily, Louis held out his hand, smiling tiredly as he said,”The names Louis, Louis Tomlinson, and who might you be, my non-douche-bag friend?”

The man, now dubbed as Sexy by Lou, huffed a laugh, letting his head fall forwards so that his curls hid his face, before bringing one hand up to shuffle through them, then flipping it all to the side again, reaching out and shaking Lou’s hand firmly, callouses brushing against Louis’s palm briefly, all of this taking up to three seconds, and Lou’s breath.

“Harry, Harry Styles.

It’s a pleasure.

How long?”

Louis knew what Harry was asking, even though he hadn’t explained.

How long had Louis been in this hell.

“Five years tomorrow, I’m twenty-one, you?”

Harry winced,”You were sixteen when this shit started? Damn, how did you cope?”

Lou shrugged, and Harry shook his head in disgust at how people’s lives were uprooted, all because the government just _had_ to test future diseases.

Pure loathing dripped from his words as Harry spoke,”I’m 19, been trekking across America for about eight years now.” Lou’s astonished face didn’t escape his sight.

Reaching up to scratch his head, Harry elaborated with a soft smile, saying,”It hit my sector first, and my sister, Gemma, caught it, then spread it to my parents, and they kicked me out, wouldn’t even hug me goodbye.” A sad expression crossed Harry’s face, and he continued on somberly,”I set out on my own, hitchhiking  stealing food, ammo, everything I needed to survive. Lived in a couple other sectors for a while, then the disease would spread there, and everyone would scatter…”

Louis nodded his head, staring out at the nothing that had used to be Florida for the longest time before turning to view the lad beside him, not expecting to see wet trails on Harry’ cheeks.

Before he could process what he was doing, Lou had harry in his arms, murmuring two words into the boy’s ear repeatedly.

‘ _I’m sorry_ ’

Although, with the height difference, it was difficult, Harry managed to curl himself into Louis’ embrace, sniffling quietly as his chest heaved with silent sobs.

—//—//—

That had been three months ago.

Since then, Harry had went his own way, leaving Lou with the memory of bright, green eyes, leaking a river of loneliness, and the ever pressing need for a warm body.

Preferably one with the name Harry Styles.

The government had made a comeback, along with China, who volunteered to help ‘ _cleanse_ ’ the infected area.

Louis had been walking along a riverbank, when suddenly, a helicopter had flown overhead, spraying some sickly green gas behind it. Convinced he was going to die, Lou had sat down, reliving every moment of the only human contact he had had since the sickness had hit in his head.

_Harry_.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Lou had let one, lone tear slip out as he re-enacted Harry’s actions all those days ago, curling in on himself while the putrid green fog settled around him.

Five minutes later, Louis was still alive.

Out of, seemingly, no where, footsteps could be heard approaching.

Lou had quickly wiped his tear(s, but no one else would ever know about that), and stood up, aiming his gun in the general direction of the sound, his vision obscured by the green haze surrounding _everything_.

If he was going to go down,

he was going to do it swinging.

Or shooting.

Whatever.

Three silhouettes had faded into existence in front of Louis, and he had leveled his gun quickly, taking a chance and barking out,”Human?!”

A Western accented voice had replied quickly,”Human! Do you need any medical attention?”

Lou had lowered his gun, feeling tension in his shoulder’s leaking away, his head had gone fuzzy as he fell to the ground, and he had lay there, wondering how those people’s feet had come level to his face.

Then he had questioned the strange way his body seemed to lift off the ground by itself, hovering in mid-air as his mid-torso had been constricted by something that felt sort of like a harness, before jerkily floating upwards, an incessant buzz growing louder with each sway.

His head had been encased in something tight, sort of like a huge pair of headphones, except…

There had been no nice music.

Louis would’ve liked some nice music.

But it had made the buzz go away, so Lou hadn’t complained

Louis had tuned out the feel of hands on his skin, the uncomfortable way his stomach had dropped with fear of what lay ahead, and the ache that had taken over his body.

Louis had given himself over to sleep.

Then, Lou had woken up to a clean, alarmingly white hospital room.

No one had been waiting for him.

Two days later, after his blood had tested negative for any virus, Louis was discharged.

Although he had been glad to get away from all the poking and prodding, Lou had been apprehensive as to what America would be like after the tragedy.

The sun had blinded him as he walked down the wrecked streets, and green had tinted his vision, the gas giving everything a righteous stench, and a sickly reminder of life, and how it had changed so quickly.

Twelve days later, rags had been the only remainder of Louis’ Aeropostale T-Shirt, though, thankfully, his tough, denim jacket, and his leather jeans were still fully intact.

It had been nine-twenty-six, according to the large, blinking numbers on a storefront that had been changed, apparently, into a digital clock. Continuing to walk, Louis had glanced at ‘Help Needed’ signs in necessity stores (clothes, food, coffee).

Speaking of coffee…

Lou hadn’t started job searching yet, but then, everything had been free; the government hadn’t re-instated money, so walking into a coffee shop and ordering a hazelnut coffee with a double tipping of cream wasn’t anything Lou hadn’t been able to do.

The door had swung open, half off it’s hinges, and banged against the wall with a ‘ _crack_ ’, sending up a cloud of debris as Louis had stepped over a shot up floorboard. When he had reached the dust covered counter, Lou had decided to shout for assistance instead of ringing that stupid bell; Lou had never like those things.

“Hello?!”

A minute later, a man whose tattered apron barely covered the large bandages that marked him as one of the Cured had walked out from one door that looked to have been labeled ‘ _Kitchen_ ’ at one time.

The Cured

That was Lou’s nickname for the Fallen who had been just that.

Cured.

The Fallen was Lou’s nickname for those who had caught the disease, and the Lost was Lou’s nickname for the ones who...

_hadn’t_ been cured.

The man had wobbled slightly, still getting used to his new, prosthetic leg as Lou had observed, and leaned forward on the counter, his brown eyes shadowed.

Brown.

A dull brown, as Louis had remembered Harry’s sparkling greens.

Louis had shook the thoughts out of his head,

he means,

who even knew where Harry was now?

The man had given him a strange look, raising an eyebrow expectantly as Louis had blushed, guessing that the man had asked for his order, while he had judged the man’s eyes. 

The man had decent eyes.

Really.

“I’d like a hazelnut coffee, please?” Lou hadn’t needed the cream.

Really.

The man had nodded, and Lou had went ahead and dubbed him Brown Eyes.

Who cares about originality.

Really.

As Louis had waited for Brown Eyes to come back, he had thought about the word ‘ _really_ ’.

It was spelled quite interestingly. The odd combination of letters, fitting together like the most unthinkable puzzle pieces…

Brown Eyes had come back, holding out Louis’ coffee with a small smile.

Louis had nodded his thanks, taking his first sip of the sinfully good concoction, looking up when Brown Eyes spoke.

“Do you wanna work here? We really-“

_There’s that word again_.

“-Need someone who isn’t… Recovering, to help us move things, and stuff like that…”

Lou couldn’t deny that life had lost it’s vigor now that everything was going back to normal, and figured it would be best if he did something to take his mind off of the nothing that was slowly becoming his everything.

And Harry.

Sure that it was probably PTSD,

and Harry,

Lou decided that a job would do him well.

Like Harry.

Lou shook Brown Eyes’ hand, sealing the deal, and left his coffee in favor of lifting certain parts of the ceiling from the floor.

—//—//—

Damian walked through the front door of the coffee shop that Louis had began working in on that wonderfully dreary, Harry-less day two years ago, and shot a smile at Lou while releasing his wife’s elbow, the motion looking almost painful.

Damian had found his wife, Sabina, wandering around the hospital grounds almost a week after Louis had started clearing the floor in the ‘ _Ki_ _tchen_ ’, with no memory of her life half a year before getting infected.

Thankfully, after he had kissed her, whispering the words he had the day they got married, she had remembered one key thing.

Her ring wasn’t from her grandma.

Then they had done a bit more than kiss, and Lou had rolled over in his ‘bed’ (a mat that Damian had ‘borrowed’ from the hospital after they had updated his prosthetic leg), praying that Harry would climb through his window, or maybe even shoot the lovey dovey couple, then hug him again.

Anything to feel Harry.

Even now, two years later, Damian had a hard time letting his wife do anything without him, but she understood, now having regained full memory through intense therapy sessions, and knowing how protective of her Damian had always been.

Sabina smiled softly up at him before he swiftly moved down to peck her on the lips, loping towards the ‘ _Kitchen_ ’ that actually looked like a kitchen now that it had been renovated, mostly by Louis.

Watching the two, Louis smiled at their obvious love for each other, wiping off the cup he had just washed and turning to look out the windows that, up until a month ago, had been boarded, but now let in light from the sun that shone brightly, without any greenness left to block its rays.

It was honestly amazing to Lou how America had picked itself up in the short time-span of two years.

The streets were cleared of debris, and buildings were being rebuilt faster than you could say skyscraper, but money was only just being reinstated.

That’s why, when people who only owned the rags off their backs came in, asking for a muffin,

and _please_ , _just a muffin_ ,

Louis gave them a bed, a job, and all the muffins they’d need for a trip to _Atlantis_.

So today wasn’t any different, for when a man who looked like Hell twice over stumbled into Lou’s Coffee for Life (as Louis had dubbed it in his head), Louis immediately began planning a place for him to stay while he got his feet on the ground, and writing down an order for,

no surprise here,

a muffin.

Then the man looked up.

Muddled green eyes peered at Louis from underneath a wild array of plastered down, yet ruffled up, _dark_ ,

_brown_ ,

_curls_.

And Louis needed to _pull_.

He needed to pull _so bad_.

He _knew_ it was Harry, just by the way the green eyes lit, and the way Harry towered over Louis when he reached the counter.

With other men, the towering always threatened Louis, but with Harry…

It just felt nice.

A smirk lit his face, and Harry’s voice, all gravelly with thirst, trickled out from his magnificent lips, slow as the day they had first met.

“Hey there Lou, didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Louis felt the smile working it’s way across his face, feeling guilty as he remembered all the times he had shouted Harry’s name into his pillow while his hand flew over his length, cum spurting across his sheets while he yearned for that one warm body.

Don’t get him wrong, there were many warm bodies, but Louis only wanted one,

and that was Harry.

Still smiling, Lou poked fun at Harry,”Didn’t think I’d ever smell you again, but here we are, eh?”

Harry chuckled and hung his head, swiping his hand through his dirty curls, just like he had done all those years ago, flipping it back to the side quickly.

“I just got released from the hospital,

they found me laying next to a burning warehouse in the fifth sector with third degree burns all across my back,

some lady ran into my room and hugged me really hard, saying something about saving her baby,

I don’t remember anything like that.”

Lou watched his hand reach across the counter, and saw it intertwine with Harry’s, but it didn’t register until Louis felt the _warmth_.

_Harry’s_ warmth.

And it was _oh_ so very warm.

Harry shot Louis a grateful glance, and Lou just kept smiling, then he remembered.

The muffin.

“Now, how’s about I get you stationed somewhere and grab you a muffin as well? God knows what kind of incorrigible food they fed you in that hospital.”

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was taking orders and carrying five or more cups of coffee at a time to a table, his slightly cleaner curls pushed back in one of Louis’ old beanies, and his large hands sparking fire in Louis’ blood.

“Here’s your muffin.”

Louis handed Harry the muffin and didn’t think he could stare any more creepily while he watched Harry bring the double chocolate desert up to his lips, a thick yet large tongue darting out like a runway for the muffin to land on, much fresher looking teeth slicing through the spongy material easily.

Nope.

Can’t get any creepier than  _that_.

After Lou had managed to recover from his lack of breath,

and heartbeat,

he and Harry had worked quite well with and around each other, chatting about family and friends and  _life_ in general, getting to know each other  _way_ better than they had so long back.

\--//--//--

It was time to close up shop.

_Time to find Harry a place to sleep._

Flipping the ‘ _closed_ ’ sign, Louis turned around to see people setting their sleeping mats out on the floor already, then he realized that  _every._  

_Square._

_Inch_

of the floor was covered.

There wouldn’t be any room for Harry is he offered to  _sleep on top of someone else_.

_Shit_.

Sighing, Lou wished everyone goodnight, and went to find Harry, trying to figure out how to tell the man that the only mat left with room was Louis’.

Five minutes later, Louis walked into the last place Harry could be.

His ‘ _bed_ ‘room.

Low and behold, sprawled across Louis’ mat,

naked,

was Harry.

Without the blanket on.

Lou felt his knees go weak and thanked God for this moment, stripping down, then crawling up the mat until Harry was basically spooning him.

Oh Lordy.

As sleep took over, Louis couldn’t help but wonder why the fuck he was torturing himself like this.

His last thought before drifting off was,

_Oh yeah, ‘cause it feels good._

—//—//—

There was a warm arm thrown around his waist, warm breath blowing slowly across his neck, and a warm feeling in his gut when Louis’ woke up.

In fact, it was so warm that Louis didn’t want to move.

So when a rough, slow voice said,”You up, Lou?” and the hand on Lou’s waist moved to his hip, spreading the warmth even further as the middle finger began tracing nonsense on his skin and it was just  _so_ ,

_damn_ ,

_warm_ ,

that all Louis could say was,”Gnungh.”

So eloquent.

Then it all came back to him.

The muffin.

The creepy staring.

The getting to know each other.

The  _spooning_.

_The Harry_.

“Yeah, I’m up, how did you sleep?” Lou croaked out.

Harry nuzzled his face into Louis’ neck, and Louis could  _feel_ Harry’s smile as he spoke,”Good, I could get used to this, you?”

Louis just couldn’t make himself say ‘ _Better now that you’re here with me_ ’ because that was way to corny, so he settled for,”Same, how do you feel about breakfast?”

Not a moment later, Harry stomach growled, and Louis burst out laughing while Harry buried his burning face in Lou’s hair, grumbling,”Shut up and make me some breakfast, you cow.” the words slightly muffled.

And that was how it went for the rest of the day.

And the week.

And the month.

And the year.

Then Harry was turning twenty-one.

—//—//—

Louis slipped away from Harry and off the mat, the first time he had ever done that in a year,

but today,

it was okay.

After getting dressed, Lou snuck downstairs and met with Damian and Sabina, who were bursting with excitement.

A surprise party!

Harry had only just told Louis his birthday was coming around yesterday, so Lou had recruited help.

And by help,

he meant Damian, Sabina, and the staff.

They began setting everything up, and by the time it was all done, thirty minutes had passed, and Harry was stumbling downstairs, oblivious to shockingly blue banner that stated

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!’

as he was looking for Louis.

When their eyes met in the crowd, Louis took the lead and shouted,”Happy Birthday, Harry!”

Everyone cheered while Harry finally noticed all the decorations, a dimple-inducing smile breaking onto his face immediately.

Then Louis appeared in front of Harry, his face absolutely beaming as he held out a double chocolate muffin with an already lit candle in it.

If it was possible, Harry’s smile got wider, and he closed his eyes for a simple second, the crowd hushing while he drew in a single breath and blew out the candle.

Who said adults couldn’t make wishes?

Another cheer erupted, and Damian passed the two friends, shouting,”Birthday sex!” at Harry, earning a slap on the arm from Sabina, and an amused chuckled from Harry.

Louis,

however,

was caught between hating whoever would get to fuck (or be fucked by) Harry, and praying it was him.

How had he forgotten about  _Birthday Sex_?! 

Fingers snapping in his face brought Louis out of his mini breakdown, and he realized that it must not have been as mini as he had thought. Harry was peering at him with a slightly frightened expression, and Louis immediately straightened his face from whatever mess it was, innocently asking,”Yes?”

Unamused, Harry opened his mouth, to, no doubt, ask Louis what was wrong, but then Damian was back, and Louis would’ve done a little happy dance when he grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him away, saying somethings about drinks, strippers, and Damian not going with because he kind of valued his life, but then Damian shot a wink over his shoulder at Lou, and everything suddenly went fuzzy.

Time seemed to blur, and Louis only remembered certain parts.

Like when

he walked slowly upstairs,

the word strippers

(guys with great bodies who knew how to drop it low and then _get back up_ )

running through his head.

And when

the rough skin of his palm scraped over his engorged length so fast he couldn’t believe it and his fingers shoved themselves

(honestly, they had started it)

rudely into his abused hole.

And especially when

his hand reached into the liquor cabinet he and Damian shared and grabbed the nearest bottle

(yum, vodka and Hi-C)

the other shoving the door open more so he could just _drown_ himself in the stuff.

But he would never forget the way the tears had felt, slipping down his face and mixing with the alcohol that had dripped down his chin, seeping out at a steady pace and forcing him to finally confront just how _badly_ he needed to _pull_ on that _hair_.

How much he needed to _make_ those eyes _water_.

How much he needed to _hear_ his _moans_.

How much he needed to _feel_ that _warm body_.

Moving.

Pumping.

_Fucking into him with a helpless abandon_.

Just when he finished the third bottle of moonshine, Louis shivered violently as a voice he would know anywhere whispered,”Can I fuck you?”

Before Louis could scream to the high heavens that yes, Harry could fuck him, and in fact, Louis would do anything to have him fuck him more than once, Harry continued.

“’M gonna fuck you.”

Louis moaned, his cock already leaking pre-cum as he tried to gather his thoughts, but he was so drunk and suddenly he wasn’t because Harry’s lips were on his neck and Harry’s getting naked like he always does but this time it was different and what if everything would be different after this but another moan escapes and cuts off all thought  because Harry’s fingers are slipping in and Louis knew they were long but he never knew they were  _that_ long and then Harry’s laughing into Louis’  hair like always does because Louis  already loose and begging for a good  _hard_ fucking that Harry  _really_ wants to give and everything stops.

Everything.

Fucking.

Stops.

Why the fuck did everything stop?!

Louis’ on the verge of tears, and then Harry’s soothing, whispering something about not having a condom, and Louis breaks.

He just…

Breaks.

Really.

But whatever, 

because the next thing Harry knows, he’s on his back, on the floor, and Louis is impaling himself on all of Harry’s juicy, thick, long glory.

Then he’s bouncing.

And then he’s bouncing harder.

All Louis can think is,

_FINALLY_.

Apparently, Harry can’t take it much longer, and, grunting, he grabs Louis’ hips with a vise grip, then takes control.

Plunging himself in twice more, he comes, filling Louis with his hot seed quickly.

Louis almost kills Harry.

He hasn’t come yet!

But then everything’s moving so fast again, and Harry’s getting up, drawing Louis’ with him, and they’re tongues are clashing as Harry trails a hand down Louis’ body, and pleasure is shooting all around the room, then Harry’s sliding his mouth across a nipple, his lips are moving so lightly but Louis can still feel it all and then _warm_.

So.

God.

Damn.

_Warm_.

Harry’s tongue slides over the bottom of Lou’s length, and Louis knows it’s gonna be soon.

What is it?

Louis doesn’t know.

Harry pops off with an evil smile, pronouncing each word carefully as he speaks.

“You have dreams every three nights, where you talk in your sleep, and each time, I asked you who you wanted to fuck the most, and  _each_  

_time_

you said me.

Then you told me all about how my hair makes you wanna do _nasty_ things,

so I figured I’d let you,

I mean,

it sounded fun.

So go ahead.

_Pull on it_.”

Warmth covered his erection, and Louis discovered that there was a wall behind him when his knees buckled yet he was still standing.

Then he forced himself to focus.

The hair.

He was gonna pull that hair _soo good_.

Threading his fingers through the strands, he wondered whether Harry’s curls became softer during moments of intense pleasure.

The he pulled.

The first pull had Harry’s eye’s, mischievous as they were, looking up at him as he discovered what it was really like to control this lad in this way.

The second pull was accompanied by a thrust, and Louis’ moaned loudly as he watched his thick cock being buried in between Harry’s now swollen and bright pink lips.

The third could merely have been a stutter of the hips to Harry, but for Louis, it was his breaking point.

—//—//—

Harry carried a lax Louis to the mat, gently laying his friend down, then sliding in behind him, much like the day Harry had walked into the Coffee Shop, wrapping one arm around the still shaking man as he began to gasp for his first breath in a couple of seconds.

When the shaking had gone a bit, Harry, knowing his best friend, whispered sleepily,”This doesn’t change anything, Lou, we’re still cool.”

And that was when Louis truly relaxed, because at the end of the day, Harry was his best friend.

Not just a warm body.


End file.
